


Trust Me

by Santhe



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Land of Mounds and Xenon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 20:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Santhe/pseuds/Santhe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk's first visit to LOMAX turns out to be much more challenging than he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust Me

**Author's Note:**

> K well I like the ending of this a lot more than the beginning. Tried to keep the characters and the planet and everything relatively canon, though I had a hard time getting into Dirk's head. And sorry, I don't know how to make the AR's text red. Still, hope you enjoy!

You finger your gas mask thoughtfully before storing it in your Tech-Hop Modus. You won’t need it here- purple gas swirls through the air, but he told you it was harmless and you trust him enough to believe that much. Although, maybe you shouldn’t, because you’ve been looking for him for half an hour and have found no trace.  
  
Instead, all you’ve seen are neon green stacks of turf- which match Jake’s style perfectly- with angular red stones clumped up in table like piles and scattered around over the peaks, and this single, pencil-straight canyon which seems to be the source of the violet xenon. You’ve also come across a few short, aging skeletons wandering around on their hind legs, all reminding you forcibly of their companions on your own planet.  
  
You glance around again before sending your fourth message in a row to Jake through Pester Chum. You try to shut down the nagging feeling in the back of your thoughts, but when he doesn’t respond in another couple of minutes, you start pacing along the shelf of grass you’ve stationed yourself on. That doesn’t last long before you pause at the corner of the stack on the opposite side as the canyon, narrowing your eyes at the base of the next mound. There’s something there that you didn’t notice before, nearly hidden behind one of those scarlet boulders. It’s well camouflaged because it’s practically the same emerald as the turf. But… it looks familiar.  
  
You scan the horizon once more for signs of your boyfriend, then jog down the steps and over to the rock. Your breath catches.  
  
It’s his skullcap.  
  
You slowly pick it up and peer at the lenses through your shades. Your own messages blink back at you. You grit your teeth and jerk the hat back off, looking around sharply, and stop when you see the hole, yawning like an open mouth from the next mound over. You store the cap as well and approach the burrow quickly, retrieving your sword as a precaution, and study the reddish dirt in the entrance. Overlapping tracks of many reptilian feet lead into the shadows. Except for a scuffed over section on the left side, as if something had been dragged along. Your chest tightens. You crouch to examine the size of the skeleton prints and scowl. Each on is about the size of a fully extended Cal.  
  
Your eyes slide back over to where the pattern was disturbed and you give one more helpless look at the outside land before stepping into the den.  
  
You have to find him.  
  
Just a couple of steps into the tunnel and you have to pause to let your eyes adjust. You shift the brightness of your glasses as well before continuing your trek into the shadows.  
  
It’s pretty miserable down there. Old, dank air permeates your nostrils. As the path slopes down, the dirt starts to squish damply under your shoes, and the ceiling droops, forcing you into a half crouch. You convince the AR to beam a bit of red light out of the glasses, giving the burrow a bloody glow so that you can see the other dark passages opening into darkness every here and there. Each time you reach a split you pause and squint at the ground to search for the dragged trail that you are following.  
  
Except for that, the tunnels are all identical and uniform. Dark walls, reptilian prints, and the occasional pile of bones.  
  
Gradually, you realize that a pale purple light of the xenon is returning again and turn the light of your shades off. You pause at yet another cross roads and drop down to a squat to examine the ground. Something odd happened here. The left path, sloping slightly upward, yields no trail. The right, which edges down, shows the drag marks for a couple of paces before the earth turns into a mess of scrabbled dust. You just observe it for a couple of seconds before the faint light reveals a wet patch about the size of your hand. You frown, touch is gently with your finger tip, and bring it up to your nose. Definitely blood.  
  
And judging by the fact that the residents of this planet are all skeletons except for one, you think you know exactly who this is from.  
  
You’ve just jumped to your feet when the boney tail flicks towards your face. You snap your sword up to catch the blow, but not before a second strikes the back of your skull like a ton of rocks and you slump to the ground.  
  
~  
  
Your eyes feel crusty as they gradually slide back into focus, briefly noting the violet light that strikes the boulders in front of you before they squint in on the red text at the bottom of your shades.  
  
TT: Look who’s finally started to wake up.  
  
TT: Come on Dirk, we haven’t got all day.  
  
A groan escapes your lips. The back of your head is pounding, and your body has enough aches for you to have been run over by a car. You are on your side, and you think you should probably roll over and stand up and get your ass out of this pit until you feel the weight on your wrists. Not like they’re tied, exactly. More like held down.  
  
You slowly begin to twist your head around only to jerk as a monstrous hiss is released an inch from your face. And then you don’t have to spin any more to see the creature whose dead claws pin your hands down because its neck, twice the length of your body, is fully capable of bringing the skeleton head over to face you by itself. Huge teeth snap and heavy spikes clink against the skull as it glares at you with empty eye sockets and gaping jaws.  
  
Your brain jumps into high speed as you try to think of a way out. If you could startle the monster, a sudden movement maybe, then you might be able to pull your hands free and grab your sword- your sword! You look around wildly, causing the colossal skeleton to clink its teeth in anger, but your only weapon is nowhere to be seen. Escape is essentially useless without it, because you doubt you can flash step fast enough to avoid this beast with your head spinning as it is, and you won’t be able to fight it bare handed.  
  
That pretty much leaves Jake. And considering the fact that you were captured and caught this easily and you’ve had to pull him out of similar fixes on your own planet more often than you’d care to count, you think the chance of rescue is slim.  
  
A spike of pain touches your chest when you realize what has happened: you came to rescue him and you failed. You failed, and that means Jake could be dead.  
  
Your legs jerk up violently, and it finally sets the beast off. With another violent hiss, it releases your hands and kicks you with enough force to throw you across the cavern, which you can see from the air is a pretty good size. You hit the wall hard enough to drive all the breath out of your body and slide to the ground without a fight.  
  
Jake might be dead.  
  
You have to stop thinking about that.  
  
Oxygen rushes back into your lungs with a woosh, but you still don’t move. The skeleton has evidently forgotten about you for the moment, and is knocking around a rock with its snout on the other side of the cave. And honestly, you’re not sure if you could move anyway. That kick caught you pretty hard in the chest and your rib cage is burning.  
  
But your head hurts worse. And your heart more than that.  
  
You’re just starting to wonder how long you have until the rock begins to bore Mr. Bones over there when a hand slides over your mouth. You might have panicked if the hand hadn’t revealed its owner by the dusky smell of jungle or if it could logically been anyone else at all.  
  
He’s alive.  
  
That relief is enough that you can force your legs to help him as he loops his other arm under your shoulder and pulls you backwards into another tunnel.  
  
“Come on, my friend, we’d best be leaving,” he breathes into your ear.  
  
“My sword,” you manage to croak back around his hand. “Jake, I need my sword.” You start to pull against him but he restrains you surprisingly easily.  
  
“Relax, Dirk, I’ve got it. Come, old chap, it’s time we headed out!” You kind of pull yourself up, but although your head already feels much better, your ribs are still burning like someone was using them as matchsticks, and he ends up half pulling you most of the way. After a few minutes of that he stops, propping you against the wall to return your katana, which you gratefully put away before ejecting his skull cap.  
  
“So we can keep in touch next time.” He looks delighted.  
  
You continue, pride forcing you to walk mostly on your own with occasional aide of the wall the rest of the way, despite Jake’s continual offers to help. There is a whispered conversation where he explains that he’s explored this tunnel before, which is how he knows his way around. When you ask why he still got attacked, he says that this is a new beast in the den and he thought it was empty. You look at the cut that was left on his side and tell him to be more careful. He agrees, and eventually leads you to a gap in the wall barely big enough to fit either of you, never mind the monster who lives here, but when you push by, you end up back outside, apparently in an indent on one of the mounds.  
  
Jake claps his hands together, looking very pleased with himself. “Well now, that was a fine old adventure! Who rescued who this time, hmm, Dirk?”  
  
You consider him for a moment- the bucked teeth, the open expression, the bright eyes- and instead of responding, you kiss him. His lips part slightly under yours in surprise. Usually, you probably would have taken that as an invitation to push your mouth further into his, but not today. Instead, you break the kiss after only a moment and slowly turn away from him to face the view. You’re not sure how you feel about it, honestly. Him being the hero for once.  
  
You don’t finish the thought because anther spike of pain enters your ribs and you jolt forward. You’d have fallen if he hadn’t caught you from behind, one arm looped under your shoulder so that his fingers splayed across your chest, the other rapping around your waist. But despite his strength, he still lowers you down gently until you’re on your knees. “You ok?” he asks. You nod, breath panting out in huffs still, only to hitch up in a yelp as the hand that had been around your waist curls up under your shirt. The hand jumps up to cover your mouth again before the noise can alert any enemies of your location, and you hear Jake’s breathy laughter behind you. “So that’s what happens when you surprise a Strider.”  
  
You feel a surge of anger and try to twist away from him, because he deserves a beating down for surprising you at all, never mind making fun of it, but merely find yourself trapped as Jake pulls you back against him, pinning you there with muscular arms in front and his warm chest against your back. Your heart jumps at the close proximity and then speeds even further as his chin brushes your shoulder and he breathes into your ear “You know, I’m not used to being in charge here. Perhaps I should win this opportunity more often, chum, because I think I like it.”  
  
He’s on his knees too, legs pressed against yours, pinning them tight together, but he’s taller than you now as he’s pulled you backwards practically into his lap. You try to reply to him, but he’s still got his hand in your mouth, which really ruins any cover you’d had for how much this is turning you on because you’re drooling like a puppy presented with a steak. You feel his grin against your cheek and shake your shoulders violently to get him off, but to no avail. He just holds you tighter to him and you’re engulfed in Jake, the earthly smell and the warm skin and the thrumming heart and for a moment you stop fighting him because it feels amazingly good to be held. Held by someone that you love, and who you think loves you. Someone who has managed to not be dead and who has just saved your life. The only someone you’ve ever really trusted. You just sit, looping your hands around his knees as another anchor to hold you two together as you breathe in each other’s scent and feel the other’s heartbeat thrumming together as if you were a single being. Instead of slowing down, both of you have started breathing faster as emotions that you’re not sure you understand course through you.  
  
When he releases his hold, you almost fall over again. You manage to throw your hands out to break the drop, but let your chest get all the way to the ground before your reaction really takes effect. Then you roll, propping yourself up on your elbows, so that you can see Jake. You’re not sure why, but it hurts that he could let you go, whereas you would have happily held him there forever, if you had had the power to.  
  
He’s not looking at you, but at the ground. Your legs are still between his knees, and you have to shove away the thoughts that the position brings to you, because something is wrong with Jake. He’s chewing on his lip, and he looks almost worried.  
  
“Jake?” you ask. “You ok?”  
  
He pulls off his glasses and wipes at the frames with the corner of his shirt. His breathing is shaky. You start to really wonder if something bad happened when suddenly his weight hits you as he drops onto your chest, arms curling behind your neck and lips pressing hungrily into yours. You’re a little surprised, because it’s usually you who kisses him, and even then not this deeply, but you’re not one to argue. And it is, after all, Jake’s day for taking the lead. You open your mouth and let him in, heart pounding like a drum against your chest as he kisses you until he needs to breathe. But instead of taking a quick one and then diving back in, he pulls back until he’s a foot or so above your face, supporting himself with tan arms. His green eyes peer down at you as you struggle to control your breathing and keep your cool. But that’s not easy, not with him perched on top of you, not after a kiss like that. His glasses are still on his fingertips, and instead of putting them back on, he puts them a couple feet away on the ground and just studies you.  
  
You start to feel slightly uncomfortable as the pause continues, but you know he’s thinking and you don’t interrupt. Until, without warning, he asks a question. “Can you take them off?”  
  
“Take what off, exactly? There are several options.” You think you know what he means, but you make a weak attempt at humor anyway, because you are not sure if you like his suggestion.  
  
He blushes a little, but not as much as he usually would. Probably because he’s already flushed pretty badly. “Your glasses, Dirk. Just your glasses.”  
  
Unintentionally, you feel yourself pulling back, uncomfortable at just the thought. “Why?”  
  
“I want to see your eyes. I never have before.”  
  
“It’s… not really worth it. Not worth seeing.”  
  
“Dirk. Please.” His voice sounds so sad, all of a sudden. Like he’s missing out on something big. You try to take a few slow breaths to steady yourself and you look over his shoulder at the grass instead of at his face to think about it. It was fair enough for Jake to want to see them, you guess. But no one has ever seen them before.  
  
“They’re… pretty sensitive to light.” Which is true, but that’s only part of the reason you wear the shades.  
  
“It’s not bright out. I promise.” He says it in an almost pleading voice, and it breaks your heart. You exhale shakily. And then you nod.  
  
He looks relieved, but then puzzled when you don’t move. “Dirk?”  
  
“I…” you try to gather yourself. This shouldn’t rattle you nearly this bad. But you allow for a few seconds of weakness, because Jake’s already seen the worst today. “You do it.” You won’t be able to do it yourself, but maybe, just maybe, you can let him do it for you.  
  
He slowly sits back so that he’s kneeling on your legs again, then offers a hand to pull you up too. You face him, leaning back on your hands, look him straight in the eye, even if he can’t see it yet, because you will not cower away from this. You can do it.  
  
But no. As his hand slowly comes up to take them, your own hand snaps up faster than you can stop and catches his wrist. He freezes. You take another deep breath and force your fingers to release, lowering your hand again and nodding for him to continue. His hand resumes its movement, and very, very gently, he takes hold of the shades.  
  
You told yourself you were ready, that you would look right at him, that you could do it, but a second before your shield is removed, your eyes snap shut. You have as little control over that as you did when you snatched his wrist.  
  
You feel the glasses pulled off of their perch, hear him gently folding them shut and the softest clatter as they are placed on the ground.  
  
You can’t do it.  
  
“Dirk.” He whispers.  
  
You can’t open your eyes.  
  
“Trust me.”  
  
Trust him?  
  
 _Trust me. ___  
  
You have to do it.  
  
Very, very, slowly, you unclench your squeezed shut eye lids and force them to open. For just a second, you meet his gaze.  
  
Oh god.  
  
They’re so bright. So curious. So expectant. And you don’t want them to see yours.  
  
You shut them again.  
  
“Dirk.” You feel his hand touching your jaw bone, gently lifting your bowed head. “Trust me.”  
  
You are a coward. A useless, terrified coward. You can’t even show Jake your eyes. Jake. The only person in your life who you have loved this way. You hear his voice again, somehow lacking in the bouncy energy it usually projects, instead sounding grown up and strong. “Trust me.”  
  
You think, maybe, you can trust him. You can do it this time. You will not shut your eyes. You let them slide open once more.  
  
You can only meet his gaze for a second before dropping your line of sight. If his hand hadn’t been in the way, you would have dropped your chin down to your chest, but he holds your face there, where you can’t hide anything, because he has taken your shield away and your protection is gone.  
  
“Look at me, Dirk.” His voice is so soft, it’s barely there at all.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“I…” You can’t think of a good reason. You can’t say you’re embarrassed. Not to him. So you shift your gaze to look straight at him and you stare into his irises like you always do when you’ve got your shades. Except now you feel like every emotion, every feeling you have, is playing out for him to see. And you hate not having a shield. He’ll wish you still had it too, once he realizes what a freak you are. But if you can just get this over with, it will be done, and maybe he’ll finally leave you alone. So you stare him down as hard as you can and swear to yourself that you will not look away.  
  
A tiny noise escapes his lips. A little gasp, maybe. It’s a breathy, unintentional noise, and one you’re sure means shock. Shock at what a true freak you are.  
  
You still wouldn’t have turned, you would have held his gaze for at least a little longer, except that you feel something in your left eye and panic.  
  
He does not need to see your eyes and your tears for the first time both on the same day. He never needs to see your tears.  
  
You jerk your head to the side and lean all your weight on your left arm so that you can bring your right hand up to wipe away the drop. For once, he’s too fast for you. His hand catches yours and pulls it back to the ground. With his other hand, he gently turns you back to face him, tear and all. You stare at his shoulder, because you’re too ashamed now to even try to look him in the eye. At the very least, you managed to stop every tear but the first. So that’s something. Even though it’s already dripping down your cheek and is definitely, definitely visible.  
  
You wait in pained silence for the rejection.  
  
Instead you get a hug.  
  
His arms wrap around your shaking body and his head curls over your shoulder. You hesitantly wrap one arm around his back, leaving the other in place to support both of you, but still half afraid that this is some sick joke.  
  
It can’t be, though. Because he keeps holding you, so tightly that it almost hurts, feels you shaking and still doesn’t let ago. Not until he knows your poor arm can’t hold him anymore and he sits back, but his arms don’t go all the way back with him. Instead, a hand cups each side of your face, making you look at him.  
  
And he looks like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Instead, he says in a choked voice. “Thank you, Dirk. They’re beautiful.” And he leans forward and gently kisses your lips, not closing his eyes this time, but keeping them pinned on yours. You watch him in silent confusion, a tiny spring of hope growing up in your chest.  
  
He gives you a tiny, sad smile, and then he really kisses you, closing his eyes and pushing against your lips. You let him push you back into the ground and close your eyes again too. But not to hide them. You would have closed them here with or without your glasses. You let yourself go, lose yourself in his lips and his breath and his hands on you, one tucked around your neck and the other tangled loosely in your hair. Warmth thrums through your chest as the knowledge that he knows and he doesn’t care keeps you strong. _Thank you, Dirk. They’re beautiful. __  
  
 _Beautiful.__  
  
You sigh softly into his mouth and clutch the green material of his jacket in your gloved hands. He shudders against you and you hug him close. Because this is a boy that you will never let go.

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out to be a little more PG-13 than I was expecting, but yeah, Pistol Pony Rodeo all the way.


End file.
